• Restoring Our 1890 Victorian •

It was fall of 1999 when Lara and I moved to Texas. We were twenty-two and we packed up her old-but-reliable car. Loading and overflowing the trunk and backseat with our vital and unnecessary crap.

This is Lara.

Lara and I have known each other since we were thirteen. In some ways, we haven’t changed at all. In some ways, it was like two thirteen-year-olds taking a road trip. That’s how exciting it was– like someone had given our younger selves the keys to a car, some money, and a map.

This is me.

Before our trip, we had never spent a significant amount of time together. We’d met at summer camp the year we were officially teenagers. A time when I had bangs and braces and wore floral shorts. Lara sported 90’s glasses and a denim poncho.

We were the only two girls who didn’t have pierced ears. And whose parents didn’t own a television. And who had never heard of Easy Cheese.

Our friendship went on to survive a phone-based operation for the subsequent ten years: Lara in New Hampshire, me in Pennsylvania.

Those were years before the internet… Before everyone had unlimited cell-phone minutes. Or Skype. Or text-messaging. Or Facebook. Or even email.

We had to write each other letters. And then wait for the post office to deliver them.

We’d see each other at camp every year. Three weeks of cramming in all the time we could. A manic crunch of late nights and hysteria. Trying to fit an entire year into twenty-one days.

It’s hard– when you are thirteen, and fourteen, and fifteen– to be separated from the only person who understands you. To be apart from your favorite person on the planet.

Separated by all those states for all those years, the idea– of spending all the time in the world, with each other. Was almost incomprehensible.

The idea of getting in a car and doing nothing, other than finally welding our brains together, was beyond understanding. The magnitude of it rivaled time travel.

If you had said to us—you can trade this experience for a magic wand, a genie, the fountain of youth, and a cave of gold. We would have said, oh? No thanks. And driven off into the sunset in a car that didn’t have power windows or a cd player.

We packed our favorite books, a camera, and a notebook to write down what happened. We each put three-hundred dollars in an envelope— our fund for gas and motels and other shared expenses. And we left.

We drove off, with no direction, and no end point, and no GPS. Listening to Cher and clutching at each other in disbelief.

We went to Nashville, and Memphis, and Graceland, and Beale Street. We passed over the Mississippi River at midnight.

We drove through the Smoky Mountains. We got lost. We spent days staring out the windows at mountains and shacks and farms and gas stations and signs— advertising everything from discount fireworks, to the impending Rapture.

We spent our days talking. And talking. And talking. And singing at the top of our lungs. And laughing. And saying, I know! I know! Oh my God, I KNOW.

Looking at the map and asking each other — do you know for sure what state we’re in?

Rolling down our windows at a red light and saying– excuse me? Is this Arkansas?

Staying up late, in cheap, roadside motels. Talking, talking, talking… As thought we hadn’t just spent the entire day, and the day before, and the day before that, chattering at ever-increasing speed.

We saw our road-trip as a great adventure. And evidence of our remarkable spontaneity and imagination. But was really just us laughing hysterically at the slightest provocation. Toting a coffee pot, our own mugs. Hauling our own pillows and towels.

Lara is the only person who could possibly tolerate a cross-country trip with me, let alone enjoy it.

The time I batted my eyes at the Sherriff of Reliance Tennessee—giving him a flirty goodbye, and then nearly crashing into his police cruiser.

I had driven away briskly, without remembering the car was in reverse… Screeching backwards in a horrifying lurch. Lara and I straight-faced while I shifted into drive and pulled away calmly. Waving to the Sherriff to signal everything was fine.

Twenty feet down the road, tears streaming down our faces. The kind of laughter that prohibits breathing or speech. Me, wiping my eyes and sobbing and trying to see the road. Lara slumped against the passenger door. Bypassing all appearance of laughter, weeping hysterically.

For years to come, Lara would occasionally bat her eyes at me and coo in a fluttery voice—OH Sherriff! And then make the screeching sound-effects meant to convey nearly colliding with a police car.

We ended up in Fort Worth, Texas. And rented an apartment. The first for either of us. We went and looked at places to live together. With the same kind of astonishment other people reserve for marveling at their newborn children. We literally could not believe that we were doing this.

We looked at three apartments… The very least amount of time I have ever spent researching information to make an important decision. We ended up back at the first one, signed a lease, and went to buy cleaning supplies.

Maybe you can imagine our glee. If you think of yourself and your best friend. At a time when you were young, and yet to be beat over the head with anything unfortunate. Now give yourself an apartment. And the freedom to do whatever you want.

We didn’t have a sofa. Or a TV. Or a kitchen table. Or a computer. We bought futons, forgoing the frames, and putting them directly on the floor.

We made a shower curtain that documented every funny thing that happened. Snippets of dialogue and one-word references to experiences that escape me now.

We both had a small amount of money to begin with. Not a lot. But since we weren’t buying furniture. Or getting our nails done. Or going out to restaurants. Not even to Starbucks. Our expenses were low. And our rent was only $550—which, split between two people is practically free.

So at first, we didn’t even get jobs. We spent our days laughing and going to the library. And reading, and talking, and jumping up and down, and planning to take over The Alamo.

We laughed constantly. We laughed and laughed and laughed.
There was nothing that was not funny.

And we talked.

And talked. And talked.

And talked. And talked. And talked.

We talked a lot. Making up for all those years of deprivation. Sitting out on our small balcony in flimsy, plastic lawn-chairs we bought on clearance.

We would prop our feet up on the railing. Wearing pajama pants and ratty t-shirts. Sunglasses during the day. Cheap wine at night. To you, this sounds depressing and strange. To us, it was ideal and blissful.

We talked for hours, days, weeks. Late into the night. Out on the patio. Staring up at the sky, from the safety of our concrete bunker. Our parents, our boyfriends, our loves, our hates, the things that scare us, the way I loathe when people stand too close to you in line.

Nothing was too trivial, too abstract, too silly. We had been waiting for this since we were thirteen—the opportunity to spend as much time as we could, talking. And it was just as good as we knew it would be. Like meditating or taking drugs—a way of reaching a higher plane of consciousness.

Like opening off the top of our heads and leaning over and saying– look around, tell me what you see.

Our trip to Texas was all of the best parts of us. Of our friendship. Of being young. Of having an adventure.

Like a honeymoon— a time of giddiness, love, and general euphoria. To be accompanied by someone who expects nothing from you, other than your presence. To be with someone who wants nothing more, than to just be with you.

HOW SWEET! What a wonderful birthday tribute to a friend who obviously means the world to you.
The constant laughter is something I remember most about my best friend. EVERYTHING was funny… funny to the point of physical pain. Ahhh, good times!

It’s so great that you still have all these pictures. The true friendship just shines through. How lucky you both are to have each other and to still be friends to this day. Fun post, Victoria.

That kind of laughter seems like a hallmark of close friendships. Paul makes me laugh a lot, but I rarely come close to needing medical assistance…

By the way? To me, Texas is a magical place where no one has to go to work or deal with anything unpleasant, or do house projects, or have real life intrude on your blissful existence… Lucky you, to live in such a place!!

Dang, Victoria Elizabeth! This is quite the post. It really sums up the essence of what a true friendship is. This is more than a tribute to one treasured friend – it’s a celebration of what friendships can and should be. Thanks for this on a rainy Monday morning.

Laughing… no I don’t think we ever stole yard décor. But we did fill a hugely-deserving ex-boyfriend’s truck bed with trash. Not garbage, just random, odd stuff. Pretty sure that will gain me admission to your league…

This is the cutest thing ever! I wish I had a lifelong friendship as such. I’ve come close but a lot has gotten in the way. I do have several similar friends but I don’t think we’d survive a roadtrip together. That shower curtain FYI – is awesome!!! Who got to keep it?

Really enjoyed reading this…I have to say that I was relieved to get to the end of your post and find that everything was okay with both of you…no tragedies or anything like that (sometimes these “remembering back” posts can go that route) hopefully the only tragedy was having to get rid of that awesome cool shower curtain!

I do wonder if things have changed with friendship now that there is the internet and email and there’s no more waiting for the mail to be delivered. I wonder if there is a quality of friendship that is being missed with communications being so instantaneous these days. I wonder if we weren’t much more “connected” back then even without electronic gadgets?

I never thought of the anticipation-part of waiting for a letter as a good thing. It was agony way back when… but maybe I should value it.

I’ve gotten back in touch with some people through Facebook, and enjoyed exchanging some really LONG emails. And they’ve really made me miss that kind of long-form communication. But also made me think about how no one really has the time for that kind of intensive writing…

P.S.- I clearly lack your ability to whittle anything down to only the essentials.

Wowee! How lucky you both are to have each other. I have a friend like that. We became really close when we were 16 although we knew each other before then. We are still inseparable and I’ve been planning retirement since I was 18 because I want to spend every day with him…..my husband.
I loved reading this…..thanks Victoria.

Your comment had it’s own little narrative arc and plot twist… SO sweet! You’re lucky to have found him so young. It’s wonderful to have someone who’s known you so long. And to have someone who shares all your important memories. It’s like having a scrapbook in the form of another person!

Victoria,
This is such a great tale of friendship and fun and someone that gets you and loves you for who you are. The funny thing is that I just got home from spending 5 glorious days with my best friend and her sister. We became friends at Disneyland during our first jobs after high school and she was in my wedding and I was in her’s. We giggled until we nearly wet ourselves this week and picked up where we left off during our last face to face visit. She lives in Washington now and I live in California…I miss her so but thanks to email we talk almost daily. Thank you for putting into words such a sweet reminder of “true lifelong friendship” and it’s value.
Happy Birthday to your dear friend.
Karen
P.S. You’re really tall!

Karen,
That literally made me laugh out loud!!
Lara and I spend so little time in each other’s physical presence, that when we get together it takes a while to adjust our mental image to reality. For some reason, in my head, Lara is the exact same size as me… and whenever I see her in person, I’m like—geez, why are you so short!! And she’s like, I definitely don’t remember you being a giant…

Five days of laughing sounds like heaven!! Your trip must have been wonderful! Isn’t it funny how you just pick up where you left off? There are years between times Lara and I see each other, and it never matters.

These really are some of my most precious memories! While I was putting this post together, I was so aware of how much things have changed technology-wise! If we were to take this trip today, we’d have endless digital photos and plenty of video… makes me sad I don’t have that kind of detailed record!

Awww! I am crying – this is so beautiful – makes me miss my best friend – what a special thing it is to find a girlfriend who “gets” you: your silliness and your fears etc and get to finally spend a bunch of time with her. This is great! My favorite lines: “our vital and unnecessary crap.” And: “Are we in Arkansas?” Ha!!

Sniff… seriously. Thanks for that. It is absolutely the best, right? To be with another person who is not at all concerned with what state you’re in!

We did take some genuinely unnecessary and puzzling things… when Lara got to my house and we were packing up my half of the car, I pulled a giant shovel out of her trunk… The kind you would use to dig a big hole. Incase of what, I have no idea. I was like, hey maybe we don’t need this? And she was like, no we’d better take it.

Actually, the shovel was a must-have for anyone living in NH winters, to shovel your car out of snowbanks. The fact that Texas doesn’t have snowstorms was not something I was thinking about when I said we should take that.

Mrs. Barnes, You don’t know me and I don’t know you, though after reading this I feel I know you and Laura quite well! The details you remembered about your time of 22 years is better than any video, or photo collage you could ever arrange.The video in your mind couldn’t have been portrayed any better!! I was moved around too often to really keep a best friend for very long but all my best friends know we all had a special friendship. Thank you for bringing these memories back to me! God has blessed you with a wonderful friend and a true blogging ability!!

Thank you so much for your comment. The feeling of conveying an experience to strangers, and having it be meaningful to them is oddly gratifying. I appreciate you taking the time to write such lovely things!

Like you, I moved schools a few times. I hated it, and found it overwhelming and intimidating… So Lara’s friendship was that much more important. Finally getting to spend so much time with her felt like we were making up for what we’d missed out on.

A great tale of friendship. Your story made me remember a trip I took from Corpus to Houston with an old friend in a very small car with no air conditioning, a very limited cassette player, and having to stop every thirty miles to keep the vehicle from overheating. We had a great time. Quite often the happiest memories come from the simplest things, thanks for sharing!

My bestie lives 1200+ miles away, so I totally get what a luxury it would be to have her next door. I saw her last summer, while our husbands were hiking and we just sat and talked for three days straight… like literally non-stop. Having someone like that, near or far, is a precious gift!

What a beautiful post. Memories of course (about keeping friendships alive before technology!), but also this is the stage of life my daughter is at, trying everything, crazy with her friends and far away from home. Such a laugh when you describe how you were the only two girls without pierced ears, t.v., etc.–Oh, how I relate to the gist of that. Sniff. Tear. Thanks for that momentary return to 21

Digging back into the photos made me so nostalgic!! Plus, kind of jarring… you think everyone still looks exactly the same, until you spend a few hours saying: oh my gosh look HOW YOUNG WE WERE! To me now, we look like little kids driving across the country!

How true that is about how little you notice changes in people until you look at the old pictures! Then it’s a bit scary. I saw a school friend (admittedly I’d had a few sips beforehand) a couple of years ago that I hadn’t seen in many years, and when she walked in–I stared at her dumbly for I don’t know how long until she actually had to blurt out that it was she! The worst part was, we were expecting her.

I loved this post! What an amazing trip. It seems like you guys had the time of your life. All the perfect ingredients her: youth, adventure, excitement, talking through the night etc… What a lovely friendship and how generous of you to share it!

I love how people related to this post. I love how it reminded them of some similar time in their own life…

I’d had some thoughts that it was such a departure from house-stuff that maybe people would only be politely interested…I’m so happy that wasn’t the case!! Now, if anything I feel like the rest of my posts are boring in comparison!!

What a wonderful story! I have had a best friend for 50 years, and although the past ten have been problematic, I remember us back then, and can relate to your friendship, especially the talking, talking, talking. I’m glad you appreciate it as you do, because there is nothing like it, and you may never experience it again. Best to both of you! Also you are both just adorable!

For me and Lara now, we’ve gotten in the habit of treating our friendship as more-or-less self-sustaining… which means it doesn’t get any kind of priority anymore. I hadn’t even realized how much it had changed until I began writing this post. And it made me made me sad, and nostalgic, and so thankful we spent that time together, when we had it…

I read this when you first posted it. Reminds me very much of my friend – it sounds as though your friendship is very similar to mine. When I turned around to my friend and said that I wouldn’t go to his birthday party in Spain because the cost was equivalent to a sash-window he did mind. Although not as long (or with photos) I gave a brief summary in my blog – but the key thing I got was support.

You’re a better house-renovator than I am!! I have a hard time prioritizing functional windows, baths, garage doors…over whatever budget-breaking fun is calling my name. Although it’s not usually a trip to Spain, it’s usually an unwieldy, antique garden urn or something…

This is such a beautiful and eloquent walk down memory lane! You captured both our unique humor and the universal nature of friendship. Even though I’m hard-pressed not to scoff at other comments (though they’re lovely) that they can’t possibly relate to just how cool we are, that they can only aspire. Which I’m sure they can also relate to! Everyone thinks their best friend is the coolest best friend ever. I’m just the only one that’s right. Love you.

I just spent ten minutes trying to find the source for the quote about how people who like their own writing are idiots… or something to that extent.

But? I just reread this, AND I STILL LOVE IT.

There was so much I ended up cutting out. Like the disgusting orange soy cheese. And the road not taken. And approaching the throne with confidence. And that Renaissance-themed restaurant in Dallas. And the time we went to Target in a hurricane. And the wall of conquest.

It made me miss Texas, and you, and that younger version of myself *so* much. Love you!!!

Loved this blog about your girlfriend and the move to Texas! Growing up with 4 sisters I loved very much, I could really relate to the laughter. Life doesn’t get much better than this. Love the shower curtain too.

I just found your blog and of course clicked this post because I live in Texas. Imagine my surprise when you said that you ended up in Ft. Worth. I grew up in Ft. Worth but moved to Arlington when I was 18. I was also 22 in the fall of 1999 (but I was married and had a baby in November that year). I wonder how you got to Ft. Worth, why you decided to stop there, where you lived (not address – but like what section of the city), how long you stayed, why you left, how you got back to PA? I’m full of questions!

We lived in an apartment, sort of near the mall? I’m foggy now on the intersections, but near Hulen? We were close to the mall. The apartments were called Hulen Gardens…

I’m going to do a follow up on this for Lara’s birthday this year… Ft. Worth was truly random. We just drove until we found a place we liked. I do get that it’s sort of odd. But it suited us. And, also the place didn’t really matter, if you know what I mean.

Your post has this 61 year old lady in tears… for things missed out on in her life. And yet, also joy, to know that there are people one can be friends with who are not all about ‘taking’ from someone. The last sentence is what really hit me… “being with someone who really wants to be with you”… I never really had that… not even during a 30 year marriage that ended in divorce 6 years ago. I’ve often wondered what it would be like, to be able to talk, and talk, and talk… and have someone who wanted to listen. And to be able to laugh extravagantly and freely at anything and everything. To be that happy. I so very much enjoyed the story of that time in your life. I enjoyed learning that those kind of relationships really can exist between people. Thank you so much for sharing it. It blessed my inner child immensely. Hugs to you.

I just told Lara to come read your comment, it was so moving. Thank you for sharing… I know that painful times can be very dark, and I HOPE that right around the corner is some thing bright and wonderful!! (And maybe shaped like a kingdom)
xo, Victoria

LaurieC it’s never too late–I know that V and I are blessed but I think there’s someone out there for you to laugh and talk with. Thank you for reading about us and for commenting, and I hope this is a sign of a turning point for you, before finding a beautiful connection of your own.

I don’t know if there has ever been a more loving tribute to a friend. You transported me back to that age and time and my own trip to Texas (Austin… where I still am 5 years later!) even though it was a whole different kind of trek. But the excitement and the open road and the feeling that the world is your oyster? Amazing. And then I moved in with my now husband as roommates, and we had those same fantastic laughing and talking experiences before we realized that it could be more. What fantastic times. Thanks for taking me back.

I’ve never lived on my own (I’ve lived alone with my son but that doesn’t really count does it?) I’ve never lived with my BFF so I can only close my eyes and picture us in your pictures. A few weeks ago she moved and left me in California and fled to Alabama. I miss her. I loved your tribute to Lara. I also love your blog. I shared it on Facebook with Jackie and she said the 3 of us would totally be BBF’s.